


Left Behind

by Routinedepression



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - The Last of Us (Video Games) Setting, Blood and Gore, Jealousy, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, The Last of Us Part II Spoilers, Zombie Apocalypse, seraphite - eddie kaspbrak, wlf soldier - richie tozier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29434350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Routinedepression/pseuds/Routinedepression
Summary: Richie huffed a laugh, "Don't hurt yourself, Eds." He reached for his backpack, bundling it up before moving to lay on the adjacent bed. It wasn't exceptionally comfortable, but it was better than the floor. "If I go to sleep here, can you promise not to stab me in my sleep? That would really really suck."Eddie hummed, reaching an arm up to cover over his eyes, "Only if you snore." Richie wished his heart didn't leap at the sudden sound of amusement in the other's voice.Basically that 'The Last Of Us: Part II au' that I started last year... and nobody asked for.
Relationships: (one sided) Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, so basically I started this in September last year and then got so overwhelmed with uni and work that I forgot about it entirely. But we're back in l*ckdown again, so hey, let's get this show on the road.
> 
> To summarise, this is a Last Of Us: Part II AU. It follows Abby and Lev's storyline from the game, wherein Richie is a Washington Liberation Front Soldier (WLF - More commonly known as the Wolves) and Eddie is a Seraphite (A primitivist cult - More commonly known as Scars) Only differences are 1- some plot changes (duh) 2- Richie and Eddie are the same age. 3- Richie uh... Never played any golf. 
> 
> (Also, I have to make this disclaimer because I just know someone's going to misunderstand-- but when I use the words 'Wolf'/'Wolves' in this, it's referring to Richie's Liberation group. It's a Zombie Apocalypse AU kids, NOT a Werewolf AU...)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!!!
> 
> !!TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THE CHAPTER IN THE END NOTES!!

When Richie was born, the world was already broken.

All over the Earth, Infection had wiped out billions. The sickness had come fast. Too fast. There was no stopping it. A single spore or bite from an infected individual could kill an army of unsuspecting civilians. Fungi sprouting from their every limb, before taking over their minds and parading their undead, blood-hungry corpses through the streets.

Often, Richie would think about how cruel it was to bring a child into a world like this. To know how much anguish and heartbreak their life was promised to be filled with. His parents had always told him how Richie was the best thing that had ever happened to them in this God-forbidden world. How, although they had still discussed the consequences of having him, the positives outweighed the negatives every time. Whenever Richie took a moment to think about his parents, he knew that if anything he remembered about them was certain, it was that Margaret and Wentworth Tozier were two individuals absolutely riddled with hope. Hope that their son alongside a whole new generation of post-apocalyptic children could be there to see it when their group, the Fireflies, built the world back up from the ashes.

"Awfully quiet today, Rich. It's past noon. Come get some food." It was Beverley's voice, rousing him from where he suddenly found himself staring at the creme coloured ceiling of his room. She had invited herself in and was over by the shelf sat in the corner, digging through the junk.

"But Bev— It's not even two-thirty yet. How will I ever get my beauty sleep?" He sat himself up, audibly cracking his back with a groan, and reached for the thick-lensed glasses sat on his bedside table.

"You'll live." She looked back at him with a smirk then turned around to the shelf. They used to live together, here in this room. Back when they were new to the Washington Liberation Front. They'd become the best of friends right away. "How's the new roomie? Causing you any grief?" Her tone was dripping with mirth.

"Bill? Oh, god no. He's as respectful as roommates come. Doesn't even kick me out for hookups, unlike _someone._ " He singsonged, stretching once more before making his way over to Bev, poking her in her side. " _Totally_ unrelated, but how's little Ben Handsome coming along?" He motioned down to her swollen belly. About a year ago, Bev had fallen for a WLF soldier named Ben, and five months ago she'd become pregnant.

"A little bit kicky last night, but Mike said that _she's_ completely healthy." She smiled, reaching a hand down to place over her sizeable bump. She had moved out of their shared room about three months ago now, joining Ben and moving into one of the family suits set up in the middle of the FOB. Close to the schools. Safe. 

" _She_ , huh? No way. Ben and I both agree; it's a boy." Richie rolled his eyes, stumbling back to his bed to pull on his boots. 

"Oh weird you would know that seeing as though she's growing inside of my body— but yeah, totally." She teased, finally retrieving the item she had been looking for. It was a book that they had found on parole early on in their days as Wolves. Bev had read the whole thing front to back more times than Richie cared to imagine, even when he had many times, sat with his back against Bev's bed as she read it aloud to him. 

"What can I say? I've got a gift." He said this in a stage whisper, placing both of his index and middle fingers to his temples and closing his eyes, pretending to concentrate. Bev rolled her eyes and let out a chuckle that he echoed, before pulling on his heavy jacket with a goofy smile cracked over his face.

They left the room, chatting quietly as they descend down the staircase tucked behind a door at the end of the hallway until they made it to the cafeteria where about a hundred WLF members sat among a food court. Richie had once been told that the large building they resided in was once called a Stadium. That apparently before the infection, upwards of a hundred thousand people would gather within these walls to watch sport and socialise. Though, Richie was pretty sure that was a myth. He wasn't sure he could visualise even a thousand people within their bunkered walls, let alone one hundred thousand. 

Bev broke away as soon as she spotted Ben sitting in the corner, already having gathered a meal for the three of them. His kind smile welcomed them over as he handed a small bowl out to each of them. It looked like today's food option was some sort of bone broth with carrots and potatoes.

"I'm almost a thousand percent sure that we've had yucky slop for the last two weeks. When exactly are they planning on spicing things up a bit?" Richie whines as he sits down on the bench table Ben had reserved for them, mixing his spoon around in the bowl with a look of disgust written across his features.

Bev kicks his leg under the table and shakes her head, she sits down herself, placing her book on the table as she stirs her own bowl. "At least you're being fed. Quit bitching for a moment, would you? I've already got a headache." This, of course, sent Ben immediately into overprotective father-to-be mode as he began to frantically assure himself that Bev was alright, and comfortable, and hydrated and blah blah blah. Richie was a second away from making a joke about the domestic behaviour in front of him until he was interrupted by a hand placing itself very firmly on his shoulder.

It was Adrian Mellon, looking down at him with a nervous smile. "Hey, Rich. Think I could get a moment?" His head nudged towards the stairwell they'd just come in from. Richie frowned towards it, really just wanting to sit and eat his food, but he nodded anyway, rising to his feet only to have Bev and Ben look at him with curious expressions. 

"Dating advice." He explained in a stage whisper, "Why must they all come to me?" Ben chuckled then, nodding in a sign of understanding before delving into his quiet discussion with Bev again. He allowed Adrian to escort him back to the stairwell before it was just the two of them standing there. Richie could feel the younger man's nerves radiating towards him, so he decided to break the ice.

"Well well well… I'll be honest. I was expecting this chat to come _after_ Don came back from the trip. But now works too. C'mon then. Tell Dr Tozier your love blues." His voice was dripping with tease, but Adrian's face remained nervous.

"Yeah actually um…" Adrian fumbled with his jacket sleeve, not meeting Richie's eye. "Don came back yesterday."

"What? I haven't seen Stan around at all." His face contorted with confusion as he looked back over his shoulder into the cafeteria.

Richie's best friend, Stanley, had gone out on a field mission with Don a week ago. It was a commonplace assignment for anyone around the FOB, but they were scheduled to be back within five days. Stanley had _always_ come to see him when he got back from these kinds of trips, just to put Richie's mind to ease, and vice versa. It was an unspoken agreement.

"That's the thing, Richie. He didn't come back with him." Richie's chest made a painful squeeze, and he took a shaky step back. Before he got the chance to pick apart that bombshell, Adrian followed up quickly, "Look I… Fuck." He took a deep breath in. "There were Scar sightings down by the Marina. Don and Stan were sent on a sweep." Richie knew this. He wished Adrian would just cut the crap and tell him where Stan was before he marched right up to Don and demanded it himself. "They found Don on the perimeter yesterday, a gunshot wound in his shoulder. He walked himself all the way back here with a _gunshot wound_." Adrian's voice choked off at that, a hand raising to cup over his mouth. Now that was a revelation that sent that painful feeling racing back through Richie's chest. 

"So where's Stan?" Richie blinked, his mind buzzing. None of this made any sense.

"I don't know. Butch wouldn't let me talk with him. Kept saying something about it being confidential. Don's been out cold since last night. I'm sorry, I can't tell you more."

"No, it's okay. I'll go talk to Bowers—"

"Richie, you can't. I shouldn't have even told you this, okay? I just— I would want to know if it was Don." Richie didn't know what the implications were there, but nodded anyway, raising his hands to the back of his neck to ground himself. "They think he did it. Stan."

"What?! He would never—" 

"I know that!.. I know that." He wrung his hands out in front of him. "Far as I can tell, they aren't sending any troops back that way though."

"They're leaving him." Richie whispered. They were going to leave him out there, deep in Scar territory. They were leaving him for dead and Butch Bowers was going to ensure nobody knew exactly why. He took two long deep breaths before he rose up to his full height and pulled Adrian in for a hug. "Thank you for telling me. I won't let anyone know you said anything." He started to make his way back up the stairs again in a hurry.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Adrian's nervous voice called out yet again, his eyes panicked.

"I think I need to lie down. Give Don my best wishes, okay?" He worked up his best genuine smile before continuing up the staircase, down the hallway, and back into his room. 

Once he had stepped in, he was immediately flying through the room, packing belongings into his backpack. He didn't have the time to sit and think of a better plan. He would simply have to go get Stan himself. Once night fell, the FOB guards would be swarming every exit and entry of the stadium, and Bill would hear him leave. He would have to go now and reap the consequences later, hopefully with Stanley back at his side. It would only take him a week at the most to make it to that side of Seattle alone, and he knew exactly where it was that Stan would be.

_"Are you sure we can just walk in like this? What if someone already lives here? I should go get Butch." Pubescent Stanley Uris was really quite the handful. All lanky limbs, bushy hair and acne. Ever since they had joined the Washington Liberation Front, he'd been far too nervous about stepping even one foot out of line. Richie often referred to him as the 'human embodiment of anxiety' around the FOB. Not that Stanley needed to know that.  
_

_"Chill Stan the man. I was here last week, and the place is completely empty. Hasn't been touched in years." Fifteen-year-old Richie rolled his eyes as he shouldered his way through a jammed door and into the next corridor. He paused to wade the dust in the air away before dragging Stanley along again. "And besides-- I wasn't really supposed to be here last week so… I'd prefer if you didn't tell Butch about this."_

_"So you're telling me that when you barged into my tent this morning and told me about this really cool mission you'd been sent on-- that it was all a fucking lie--" Richie snapped his hand over Stanley's mouth._

_"It'll be our little secret." Richie's eyes lit up with mirth. "C'mon! How often do you get to see such a cool building?" He ran his hand along the corridor's wall. The whole surface was lined with tanks and painted ocean life. The occasional plaque would appear, its words faded as it explained what animal used to live within the said tanks. "I think this will be right up your alley, Stan. You love nerdy shit like this." As they arrived at yet another locked door, Richie set off into picking the lock as Stanley looked around the room bored._

_"Richie all these tanks are empty. The fish have probably rotted away and disintegrated by now. I don't get what's supposed to be exciting about--" As Richie pushed the door open, their corridor was flooded with gold light. When both boys took a moment to adjust, they were met with an expansive room, filled with art, statues, and posters of marine life. There was an information desk in the middle of the foyer. Sitting behind that was a staircase, wrapped around a giant tank that lead off into the upper levels of the Aquarium. Light poured in from a massive skylight in the ceiling, rays of sun catching in the dust that was lifting off of the floor in the breeze of a busted window on the wall. In the middle of the room, perched on the back of the desk's chair, was a bird. It was singing.  
_

_"Do you know what it is?" Richie turned to Stanley who was looking towards the bird with a soft admiration._

_"Yeah. It's a Golden-crowned Sparrow. Pretty common in this state. I read about them in that book Mike found on the tour last month." Stanley smiled and slowly made his way toward the bird as it continued to chirp. "Just listen to that song. It's beautiful, isn't it?"_

_Stanley looked so happy. He was almost smiling like he used to when they were back with the Fireflies. Something about it was making Richie's stomach erupt in butterflies and his face start to blush, so of course-- he forced himself to stop.  
_

_"Yeah, I mean it just sounds like a bird. We hear them every day." He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Stan approach the bird with practised ease, and carefully cup it between his hands.  
_

_"Grab the door over there, Rich." He motioned to the large door behind the Info desk— obviously the front entrance. Richie moved sluggishly to do as he was told, shouldering the door until it burst open, revealing the outside world again. Stanley walked over to him and gently opened his hands, releasing the bird back out into the sky with a look of wonder on his face. They watched the bird fly until they couldn't see it anymore.  
_

_"Well… Now that you've had your moment, Snow White-- can I show you around now?" Richie grabbed Stanley's forearm and yanked him back inside, slamming the door closed behind them with a smug grin. He simply received a sigh in return, Stanley shouldering past him.  
_

_"You better make this worth my time, Tozier.”…_

Richie hadn't thought about the Aquarium in years. It was on the complete opposite side of the city, down by the water. Wolves nearly never went there anymore, and the area was very quickly filling up with Scars. 

"God damn it, Stanley. What have you gotten yourself into here?" Richie bit out as he pulled on his backpack straps stressfully. He'd been walking for about five days now, and he was exhausted. He couldn't stop thinking about his friends back at the FOB and how worried they must be about him. He was pretty sure that if he wasn't killed out here by infected or a Scar, he would be shot dead by a pissed off Beverly the minute he stepped back into base.

Nevertheless, he persisted forward. Stanley was so much more important than that. He could be in serious trouble by now. He could be injured and alone or starving, dehydrated-- 

A sharp whistle sang through the dead air.

Richie stopped in his tracks immediately and pulled his gun out, scanning around for any Scars that could be out in the open. When he didn't see anyone right away, he darted for a nearby tree, ducking behind it in a panic. If he was lucky, he could sit here and let the group of cultists pass him without being spotted and then be back on his way. He tried levelling his breathing in the meantime. In-- one, two, three. Out-- one, two, thr--

An arrow sunk into the tree, about three inches from his head. He had enough time to react and push himself to his feet before there was a Scar standing in front of him, reeling back his large club and swinging it into Richie's head. 

"You motherfuck--"

_The boys had found a room tucked up the top of the grand staircase. Upon further investigation, a sign was painted onto the door with faded letters that read 'STAFF ONLY.' When they stepped inside, they were met with a charming room with a lounge in the middle, and a kitchen tucked away to the side alongside a door that led to a bathroom._

_"Well, I think we found our secret hideout. I mean-- this place has everything!" Richie was nearly vibrating with excitement as he started to dig around in the cabinets and fridge, pushing aside all that had expired a long, long time ago.  
_

_Stan, on the other hand, slowly took in the room. It was undoubtedly in excellent condition. There were no holes in the ceilings, or blood on the rug. The room didn't smell like death. There weren't even any invasive plants crawling up the walls. It looked… Normal. Untouched by the last twenty or so years. He took a step further into the room and deposited himself onto the couch. There was a handwritten note left neatly placed in the centre of the coffee table.  
_

_' 3/11/2014'  
_

_ALL SURVIVING MARINE WILDLIFE IS TO BE EXTRACTED FROM THEIR ENCLOSURES AND RELEASED BACK INTO THEIR NATURAL HABITAT IN A SAFE AND TIMELY MANNER._

_\- THE FIREFLIES  
_

_Stanley's breath caught in his throat as he held the note up to his chest and closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to process the words on the paper before he folded the letter up and tucked it into his pockets. His parents--_ their _parents, had been a part of saving those poor animals from their deaths. This whole building was a testament to what the Fireflies had achieved within such an unforgiving world. This Aquarium was one of the last examples left standing. "I've changed my mind. Maybe you dragging me here wasn't so bad after all."_

_"See? Was admitting you're wrong really that hard?" Richie threw himself over the back of the couch until he landed on the opposite side, upside down. There was a comfortable silence then. The two looked around the peaceful room and out of the window sitting adjacent to them. It looked out onto a water show arena. Stan could imagine dolphin and seal shows happening right there in the now browned water, a crowd of hundreds cheering. At that moment he wished more than anything to see a show like that one day._

_"Butch asked me to start training up yesterday." Richie's voice cut through the air, "They wanna send me into the city with the rest of the groups by next month." Stan really wished Richie didn't sound so defeated._

_"Oh…" Stanley continued to peer out of the window. He studied every detail of the stands, the water, the shallow sand at the front of the crowd. They always knew they would be sent out one day. It was, of course, why they joined the Washington Liberation Front in the first place. It was work. Yet, he had always hoped that maybe they would be granted a little more time to simply be kids before they were shipped directly into the city-- Into no-man's-land. Not a lot of Soldiers came back from there unharmed. He knew Butch would ask him the same thing shortly after they returned to the camp. "Are you… Okay?"  
_

_"… I'd feel a lot better about it if you gave me a big smooch on the lips right now." Richie accompanied the statement by puckering up and making lewd slurping noises. He was rewarded with a punch to the shoulder._

_"Ew Rich! Don't be gross!"…_

When he came to, he was being dragged by his arms, facing the ground with a stream of blood dripping quickly from his nose. He had a split moment to be relieved that his glasses had somehow stayed on his face during their scuffle before he felt his face plunge into wet concrete. It was raining. Hard.

Before he'd become completely aware of what was happening, there was a noose being tied around his throat tight, and he'd been ripped from the ground, swinging into the air, starting to suffocate before he felt an upturned bucket being forced underneath his feet. He reached to balance on it on his tiptoes enough to not choke as violently. There was a female Scar in front of him, her eyes alight with hatred as she pulled her hood off and regarded him. His hands were tied firmly behind his back, and as he looked around, he was met with four hanging bodies to his right, each of them had a long slice on their abdomen, blood and organs dripping to the concrete. He started to panic. "Let me go! Let me go you fuckers!"

The woman ignored his pleas, fishing a large hunting knife out from her back pocket. Richie recognised it as the type that people back at the FOB used to cut up deer. 

"They are nested with sin." She stepped forwards, raising Richie's shirt above his navel and placed the knife to his abdomen. "Free them." Richie cried out as she began to dig the knife in, slower and slower, no doubt about to gut him like the bodies hung above. "That they may know my—" As he began to resign to his fate, his eyes closing in defeat, a Scar's whistle sounds through the air. He looked back down at the woman, her own eyes were unsure. She begrudgingly pushed off of Richie, removing the knife as well before turning her attention towards where the cries of a boy were approaching.

Richie tried to look at the commotion, but his feet began to slip on the bucket as he turned. His throat was aching with the angle, and he was finding it an extreme task to ensure he stood perfectly still, teetering between life and death. Once he was confident enough, he turned just enough to see a Seraphite boy shoved to the ground by two large men, fighting and screaming. He looked to be the same age as Richie, his head was shaved, and the angry raised scars of a Glasgow Smile stuck out against his pale skin like blood. He stilled when he reached the soggy ground, his breathing a horrible raspy sound as he tried to calm his awful sobs.

"Edward," The woman stepped towards him now. She hissed the name with a hint of smugness to it. "Sonia's boy. So polite and well behaved— now Apostate?" 'Edward' brought himself up high enough to spit directly into her face. He was brought back to the ground roughly, continuing in vain to struggle. "Stop his panic." The female Seraphite muttered, stepping back to watch the display. One of the men holding Edward moved to pick up a hammer lying close by, holding down his arms and leg firmly, before bringing the hammer down brutally on his right knee. _Once… Twice… Thrice…_ The boy shot up in agony, screaming in raw pain.

Richie began to struggle then. He wouldn't sit and watch a boy get beaten to death. He managed to bounce himself in the noose enough to grab hold of the female Seraphite with his legs, pulling her harshly towards him before trapping her within his thighs, hoping to strangle her there. The other Scars holding onto the boy seemed to take this as enough of a distraction to stop beating him. Edward noticed this and took the opportunity to grab the hammer and send it swinging into the face of the man who had struck him with it. He repeated the action quickly with the other.

Richie was in a losing battle with the woman as she started blindly swinging her knife up at him as they both choked, her gashes landed on Richie's thighs and stomach. In a split moment, the blade was ripped from her hand and sent straight into her neck, Edward managed the swift movement before immediately crumbling to the ground after standing on his shattered knee. The movement of the woman falling dead to the ground sent Richie hanging, the bucket long since tipped over. He could feel himself losing air as his throat constricted around nothing.

He squirmed around in a blind panic of certain death, darkness beginning to spill into his vision before he was sent falling, head hitting the wet concrete hard. He felt someone on top of him, cutting his bound hands before he was moving quickly to release the noose that was still so tight around his neck. Once gone, desperate breaths filled his lungs back up. When he was sure he wasn't suffocating anymore, his eyes blinked open to find Edward flooding his vision, the knife he'd previously killed the Scar with dripping with blood. 

"The demons are coming." He was breathing erratically too, eyes wild and panicked. Richie only gave a nod of agreement, standing on shaking legs and reaching down to grab the hammer Edward had killed the other two men with. As he stood back up, he sent it swinging into the head of a Runner.

Edward took this as an opening to send the knife he had into any infected that came near him, stumbling over his injured leg. After around a minute of tired fighting, both boys stood back to back under the single torchlight, watching as more and more infected made their way toward them fast. 

Edward grabbed onto Richie's shoulder, tugging him in a direction away from the little makeshift camp they were in. "It is not safe here. We must go before more come. Now."

They ran, the shrieks of infected beginning to get smaller yet still barreling towards them. They lasted not even a minute this time before Edward had fallen into the mud of the forest floor, crying out in pain.

"Stop. Get on my back." Richie extended his hand. The Scar looked up at him with a terrified expression, already trying to bring himself back up on his own. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just get on, there's no time." Edward bit his lip with a hesitant nod before letting Richie help him up and onto his back. 

Once the Wolf knew he was on and not hurting the other's knee, he started to run. "Hold on tight and try to cover me as best you can." He dodged in between trees and over branches. It was nearly pitch black, so he had to squint to make out whatever he could ahead with only the moonlight to assist.

Richie must have run for ten minutes straight like that, Edward occasionally sending a hit to an infected's face with the knife he held onto so tightly. Soon enough, they started to hear the whistles again. They were approaching the bigger Scar camp nearby. Richie ducked down behind a tree and a concrete pillar that connected to the fence surrounding the building. There was a small opening in the chainlink. 

"Shit just— wait here. My things are probably in there." Richie mumbled, setting Edward slowly onto the wet forest floor beside him. The rain was still coming down in buckets, and Richie watched for a moment as droplets fell off of Edward's nose before it scrunched up.

"They will not allow me to live if they find me again," Edward muttered, his eyes closed tight and his face even paler than it had been before. "They took my belongings as well. I will come with you."

"You look like you're about to kneel over and die."

"Then quick, before that happens. Stay low." He crouched down as best he could with one good leg and started to limp, through the gap in the chainlink, and towards the back of the building rather quickly for someone in his condition. 

"Wai— fuck!" Richie whispered before he set off after him. Peering in, they could see the whole place swarming with Scars, yet their belongings lay on a table sat in the corner, everything pulled out and messed with. "That's a lot of Scars. Are you sure you want to do this?" Richie ducked back under the windowsill and glanced at Edward. He nodded and scowled into the window. "Okay, then. Shit— alright I'll go distract them. When they've all cleared out, you rush in, grab everything then meet me over there." He pointed back over their shoulders at where they had come in the fence.

Edward simply nodded again, his eyes focused. Richie made to move before quickly looking back at the other boy, his eyes pointed. Daring. "I'm putting a _lot_ of trust into you, Scar." 

"I will be at the tree." Edward's voice was collected. He did well to mask the unbearable pain he was undoubtedly in. 

Richie took off into a run around to the front of the building, somewhere that the group would be able to see him then crouched down, counting them out to himself. Nine. There are nine of them. He'd struggled to take out five with WLF soldiers in the past, and his current 'army' consisted of one and a half. He took a moment to curse himself for getting into this mess before he rushed forwards, launching himself towards the first person he could find and swung the hammer he held right into the brute's head. Once he was sure that one was taken care of, he found the whole camp's attention entirely on him, and he set off running again, away from the building. 

He heard a chorus of sharp whistles and the feeling of arrows narrowly avoiding his person as he made a mad dash through the dark forest, weaving in and out of trees. "Fuck!" He hissed, as he lost his stepping and dropped to the forest floor. A Seraphite woman stood atop him, leering and raising her hammer high above her head. Richie looked up at her, awaiting the killing blow. She looked down at him with a wicked smile before an arrow cut directly through the side of her head, and she collapsed to the ground.

Richie's eyes grew wide as he looked in the direction it came from to see Edward leaning against a nearby tree, bow still raised in the direction he'd sent the arrow. He had a small backpack on and a quiver of arrows strapped across his chest. Richie took a single moment to admire how calm the boy was, his body was completely drawn into the bow. You would never have guessed the pain he was in. He wondered if this was something the Scars had taught him; to show no weakness. Edward seemed to have realised the stare as he limped aside to show Richie's belongings sat at his feet.

"Holy shit. _Holy shit._ " Richie rose to his feet quickly then, running over and picking up his things, slinging them all back on in place. He was absolutely thrilled not to see anything important missing. "Thank you, I really didn't— hey, are you okay?" He watched Edward shrink into himself in a split second and fall against the tree. "Shit. Hey dude, stay with me here, yeah? We need to get you somewhere to lie down." Richie bent over and gently picked Edward up. "Okay, I'm gonna find us somewhere to fix your leg. Just-- just hang on, okay?"

Richie began to walk quickly back into the woods, not looking to get any more grief from any Scars still looking for them, or Infected who had heard the fight. Edward was beginning to shiver in his arms, both with weakness and cold. Richie took this as his sign to pick up his pace.

Making their way deeper into the forest, they found themselves at some sort of lodge, a window sat only a couple of heads above Richie's height, it looked like it had been broken a while ago judging by the look of the moss protruding from it. "Okay," Richie started, placing Edward down on his feet, "Let me take a look inside." He jumped up and pulled himself up into the windowsill, sitting on it and peering inside. It was empty. 

"Gimme your hand." Richie bent down and met his grip with Edward's weak one. The boy looked unsteady on his feet, yet he used Richie's help to pull himself up to sit on the windowsill, steadying himself on the other's shoulder. "Almost there. Hang on." Richie swiftly lept down inside and held his arms out to catch the other. Edward saw the invitation and quickly let himself drop down, which, in his weakened state, was more like a headfirst fall. Richie caught him before he could do any more damage and quickly started to make his way up the main stairs. The lodge wasn't big, but Richie thought Edward would have a bit more chance if they could find a bed to lay on. So he walked them upstairs and into the first room they could find. It was small, but it had two beds, which was more than Richie could have ever prayed for at that moment. He slowly let Edward sink down out of his hands and back onto his own feet.

"I need you to uh-- um… Take your… pants..." Edward seemed to get the point. He didn't look even slightly embarrassed as he started to unbutton his pants and painfully step out of them, before he let himself fall back onto the bed, panting. Now, Richie could see the full extent of the boy's injury. And it was even more gruesome than he had thought. His whole knee was black, blue, and swollen. What parts weren't— were dripping blood down his leg. Richie took a moment to close his eyes and centre himself before moving to the opposite bed and ripping up the top sheet into long strips for bandages. Once he was sure he had enough, he spotted a wooden chair in the corner of the room. He set it on its side before stamping on one of the legs to break it clean off. He hoped if the boy's knee could be stabilised, it may heal enough until he could get some real medical help.

"In my bag…" Edward's voice cut through the tense air, it occurred to Richie quickly, that he hadn't heard the other speak for a while. He probably should have been worried about that. "Water. To-- to clean it." Richie nodded and dug through the Scar's bag until he was rewarded with a bottle of water. It wasn't full, but it would have to do. 

"Can you wiggle your toes?" Richie asked as he moved back over to sit on the bed. He remembered this being asked of a Wolf who had broken his leg while stationed inside the city when he was younger. The man had yelled about how stupid of a question that was. Richie had been gathered around the corner with his friends, watching in terror. Suddenly reminded of the savage nature of Scars beyond their walls.

He shook his head to clear the thought, reminding himself of the nature of the boy he was trying to help. Edward took a long breath, his leg tensed under Richie's hands, and he watched in anticipation as Edward's toes moved, albeit not much. Yet, it was a good sign. They could work with this. His shaky fingers began to make quick work of dabbing the water over the injury.

"What is your name?" Edward's voice was choked, he was trying to distract himself from the pain. Though, he didn't sound like he particularly cared much about the answer.

"Richie." he murmured, his eyes softening under the gaze of the other. If he were not actively trying to keep this boy alive, he would have thought twice about telling a Scar his real name.

"You are a Wolf." Edward muttered, his eyes unfocused as he dropped his heavy head back against the pillow. "Why did you help me?"

Richie shrugged, "We helped each other." He began to tie up the bandages on the other boy's leg, trying not to notice how the white already began to dot with blood.

There was silence then. While Richie finished up on Edward's leg, placing the chair leg in with the next couple of bandages, he then moved on to covering it with one of his spare shirts to ensure nothing moved. The sound of the harsh rain bruising the lodge's roof and the injured boy's occasional whimper filled the space.

"Edward. My name is Edward."

"I know. I worked that out." Richie moved to lie back on the floor, rake a hand through his wet hair, and calm himself down. 

"It is polite to introduce yourself to a stranger. Especially when they have done you great service." Edward mumbled, his face constricted into annoyance.

"Edward… _Eddie_. It suits you." Richie propped himself up on his tired arms, a grin covering his face.

"Nobody has given me a name before." Eddie sat up then too, his face still crinkled. "It is nice."

"You mean a nickname?" His head quirked to the side in question before the Scar nodded. "Gotcha. I'll keep 'em coming then, Eds. I'm pretty good at it." 

"No. Not that one. I do not like that name. You may call me Eddie." 

"You aren't supposed to pick your nicknames. They're given to you."

"I should give you a name then." Eddie's eyes lit up ever so slightly before he seemed to remember himself and went back to his calm exterior. 

"Richie's already a nickname." Something about the boy's naïvety yet cold snappiness made Richie want to sit and talk to him forever. He must have quite the story to tell considering their circumstances. He watched the other boy turn his tired head to look at him in confusion before rolling his eyes, "My full name is Richard." 

"Richard. Richard, Richie…" Eddie repeated, trying out the name before huffing, flopping back down onto his back and staring up at the wooden ceiling. "I will have to think about it."

Richie huffed a laugh, "Don't hurt yourself, Eds." He reached for his backpack, bundling it up before moving to lay on the adjacent bed. It wasn't exceptionally comfortable, but it was better than the floor. "If I go to sleep here, can you promise not to stab me in my sleep? That would really really suck."

Edward hummed, reaching an arm up to cover over his eyes, "Only if you snore." Richie wished his heart didn't leap at the sudden sound of amusement in the other's voice. He turned himself over, to face away from the other and allowed himself to start studying the pile of Eddie's belongings. He didn't have much, just a backpack of clothes, then his bow and quiver of arrows. 

"Night Eddie."

He had to remind himself of where he was. In a dodgy lodge in the middle of the woods, Far away from any WLF soldier. Far away from Stanley. Sleeping next to a disgraced injured Scar— yet a Scar nonetheless. Basically his sworn enemy.

"Goodnight, Wolf." Eddie's voice rang through the room, and it was all the assurance that Richie needed to be able to let his guard down and drift to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> !!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!  
> \- attempted hanging  
> \- major character injury  
> \- general blood and gore  
> \- cultists  
> \- zombies/horror
> 
> Holy Moly...
> 
> Please let me know if this is something worth continuing. I've got the next four parts mapped out but I guess I kind of just wanted to dip a toe in and see if anyone was actually wanting to read it before I started really getting into the writing.
> 
> Anyway-- thanks for making it to the end, I really appreciate it.
> 
> Stay safe and see you guys soon. (hopefully x)
> 
> ps.
> 
> I don't have a beta reader because I didn't even know what those were until a couple of months ago, so if that's something you'd be into... Drop a comment.


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